


Terms and Conditions Apply*

by eilishly



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fluff, Office Sex, PWP, Romance, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-15
Updated: 2021-01-02
Packaged: 2021-03-11 01:28:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28096929
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eilishly/pseuds/eilishly
Summary: *partner acknowledges the nature of this engagement. They are entering a 'no strings attached' relationship (see 1.1) and may see other individuals at any given period during this arrangement (see 1.2) Partner also acknowledges that by entering into the relationship it can end at any given time (see 1.3) - partner wholly accepts that they must return to a normal, stable environment upon the end of this engagement (see 1.4) Finally, the partner must accept that the termination of said liaison is inevitable (see 1.5)(1.1) Until emotions come into play and I can't breathe when I'm around you.(1.2)  But I really hope you don't.(1.3) Even if I don't want it to.(1.4) I acknowledge it was never really normal to begin with.(1.5) Oh dear.
Relationships: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley, Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Comments: 13
Kudos: 63





	1. a game of chess

“Ginny, it’s me! Can I come through?” The voice of Hermione Granger hollered through the fireplace. 

Every Friday was the same, a request that was always met with the same answer. 

“Yep, come in!” The redhead called back, her invitation met with a burst of green flames and a frazzled looking witch. 

She handed her friend a glass of white wine as she stepped over the threshold and into the living room. Another part of their ritual, and until very recently the two of them had often split a bottle in two, chatting into the evening about their week. Sometimes Harry would make an appearance wearing the same glasses, the same scar, the same half smile he’d had since Hermione had known him. With the three of them together, a near identical golden trio, it almost felt like old times. Almost. 

“You look like you needed that,” Ginny laughed as she watched her friend take a sip and relax into her surroundings, “How’s your week been? Any better?” 

Hermione shook her head, and claimed her usual seat on the sofa. Legs tucked behind her body, she set the glass down on a nearby table. Finally, she could breathe. 

“Not really.” She admitted, her posture deflating as she released a long awaited sigh.

Six weeks had passed since her transfer to the Department of International Magical Cooperation, and things had gone from bad to worse. Hermione had been attracted by a decent salary, and the prospect of travel. Had she known what she was letting herself in for, she might never have left her old administrative job. That thought never lasted very long. She was Hermione Jean Granger! A woman marred by war and prejudice, but never defeated. Not by those who dared to call themselves her peers, not by the death eaters, and certainly not by one particular colleague.

As if on cue, Ginny’s head tilted and would soon be accompanied by the same, “I still say you should tell him to fu-” 

“I will do no such thing, Ginevra! Besides, I’m sure that’s exactly what he wants.” She laughed, tutting in jest at her lewd suggestion. 

Brutal honesty was Ginny’s way. Where Hermione had chosen a path of climbing her way through the ministerial ranks, she had hopped from one quidditch team to the next until reaching international recognition. There was no room for niceties or playing the long game in sports. People swore, fought dirty, armed with wands and dirty tricks positioned from every angle - front and back. She ran her hand along her growing stomach idly, grateful for a reason to step away from the game. 

“He’s not doing this to annoy you, Hermione. He’s doing this because he’s annoyed.” She pointed out, before reaching for a snack. 

She plucked a pretzel from a bowl nearby, before dipping it in mint yoghurt. Hermione's nose wrinkled as she considered the food combination. 

“Don’t give me that look. I’ve been craving this for ages.” She argued, and sank into her seat as she took another bite, “Ugh, so good.” She moaned with a mouthful of pretzel.

“Poor Harry.” The curly haired witch smiled apologetically. 

The boy who lived had survived so much in his twenty-seven years, but Hermione could only assume that Ginny’s cravings could possibly be his undoing. Every week was something different, and none of them looked appealing. Chutney, French onion, and this week’s flavour of the hour was mint yoghurt. She grimaced, grateful she would never have to kiss someone with such an unsavoury palette. 

“Oi! He’s more than happy thank you very much. How’d you think this one came along?” She smirked, and made a point of rubbing her stomach. 

“Too much information, Gin!” Hermione tried to cut her off again, eventually the conversation dissolved into laughter.

Whilst Hermione moved to refill her glass, Ginny reached for her orange juice. Another craving, one that was deemed relatively safe. 

“Mm! There’s a thought.” brown eyes sparked with a devious idea. 

“What?” Hermione’s brows knitted together, unsure of what conclusion her friend would leap to next. 

“It’s a bit like kids in the playground, you know, pulling your hair and calling you names. Maybe he fancies you.” 

The knee jerk reaction kicked in, Hermione’s posture snapped to attention. She set the wine glass down on the end table with a strength she didn’t know she could muster at six o'clock in the evening. Her head shook firmly, almost violently, not out of disgust, but pure arrogance. There was absolutely no way the two of them could have any feelings towards each other that weren’t infuriation.

“Absolutely not! He undermines me at work, makes decisions behind my back, questions my authority-” Perhaps she hadn’t been entirely honest, only recently Hermione had joined in on the game, arguing and working behind his back simply out of spite. In her defence, he started it! That single thought wiped the smug smile from her face, swapping it for a look of alarm. Playground tactics indeed. 

“Oh he definitely fancies you.” She snorted.

“Gin, please.” 

“Alright, sorry. I just thought, it’s been a while for you and he’s probably never seen a woman naked before-” Hermione rolled her eyes, “Oh come on ‘Mione, he hasn’t and you know it. It’d probably help. You know, a one off.” She suggested, teasing her friend with such a salacious idea.

Filth had poisoned Ginny’s mind, it worked its way down towards her lips, slowly revealing a confident smirk. Obviously she would have never put the two of them together, but the more she considered her friend with him, the more obvious it became. 

“Pregnancy has compromised your way of thinking, Gin.” Hermione interrupted, and shook her head.

“True, but only in the first few months. I think we’re over the worst of it now.” The redhead shrugged.

Silence held the room for a moment, whilst both women considered the situation properly. 

“Alright, so you’re not going to shag him. It’s probably for the best, it could get awkward. You’re going to have to play dirty.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“Give him a reason to be angry, fight back. Or you could consider my first suggestion...I’m joking! Honestly...sort of.” Ginny cackled, then dipped her finger in mint yoghurt and licked it clean. 

“You’re completely mad.” Hermione laughed, if only out of sheer disbelief. 

She and her co-worker were always destined to clash, but she had never expected them to become rivals at such an intense speed. The Gryffindor had always been aware of his presence in that department, despite his determination to remain a ghost. Hermione expected their relationship to be quiet, accompanied with a stiff awkwardness born out of circumstance. She almost yearned for that now. Sometimes she could even admit to enjoying their situation - but only when she could claim the occasional win. Those days were few and far between, as up until very recently he always had the upper hand. 

Hermione entertained her friend’s suggestion, if only briefly. It didn’t take a seer to predict the menacing smirk that would dance across his lips as he shot her down. She was no fool and it wasn’t long before she threw the scenario from her mind.

The conversation spun in the opposite direction, as they were joined by a third party. Harry had already shrugged his robes loose, and upon entering the living room he pulled at his tie until he felt he was free of the burdens of his own place of work. 

“Hello Harry.” Hermione greeted him warmly. 

He reached down to place a kiss on his wife’s forehead, before grimacing. 

“Mint dip? Again?” He sighed. 

The other witch was quick to conceal her smile with her hand.

“Oh, you can both piss off!” Ginny admitted defeat, and reluctantly pushed the snack away from her side. 

“How was work, Hermione? Still getting trouble from-” 

“Unfortunately yes,” From the corner of her eye, she could see Mrs. Potter raring to include her husband in their conversation. “What about you?” 

“Oh you know, the usual. Half the school day was cancelled so we could round up the Nifflers that Hagrid accidentally let into the castle.” He explained, as he whistled out a sigh.

“Nothing changes.” She chuckles lightly, and he joins his friend with a lopsided smile. 

Harry’s career choice was perhaps the least surprising, as he followed in the footsteps of each fallen role model. At first he had become the face of the ministry, suffering the fate of being the Daily Prophet’s poster boy, headlining everyday for two years after the war had ended. There were whispers he would skip auror training altogether and become head of the department. Hermione had insisted, wrongly, that it wouldn’t come to that. When offered the position, the boy who lived had done the unexpected. He ran. The very next day Harry handed in his notice, and met with the newly appointed headmistress of Hogwarts: Minerva McGonagall. Defence Against the Dark Arts had never seen a teacher last more than one year, but as always, Professor Potter defied the odds. This would be his sixth year on the job. He wasn’t the first of his friends to join the school, as Ron had accepted the position of flying instructor only a few months before. 

“Is Ron alright?” Hermione was quick to ask. 

“Oh yeah, he’s brilliant.” Harry nodded, as he poured himself a drink. 

The wizard took his place on the chair arm beside his wife, slipping his arm around her shoulders with ease. The witch studied them for a moment, and wondered if she and Ron could have ever been the same. In some universe the two of them might have been a perfect fit, but not in this one. Enough time had passed for them to exist as friends, but the love she had for him had never faded. 

Her mind drifted away from her short relationship with Ron, and returned to Ginny’s suggestion. She was plain, safe Hermione Granger. The witch who followed the rules, only bending them for something worth fighting for. Her own gratification didn’t feel like a valid cause. To embark in a relationship so foreign to her, no strings attached and purely sexual...it went against everything she knew, what everyone knew her to be. Or perhaps it was simply a side she had been too afraid to explore. It was pointless thinking about without a willing partner, but even she couldn’t deny that her interest was piqued.

Eventually, she drifted from one fireplace to the next, returning to her small, cosy London flat. There was no partner waiting for her with a cup of tea, no one shrugging out of their work clothes only to greet her with a warm embrace. Her faithful Crookshanks did neither, and as Hermione dusted the soot from her robes she was welcomed with a demanding cry. The cat wanted to be fed. 

Her life hadn’t always been this way, quiet, free from the noise of responsibility. Only in the last twelve months had she become, just Hermione. Ginny’s plans would disrupt everything she had worked so hard for. Loneliness was pleasant, and most importantly, it was safe. 

\-- 

Malfoy Manor existed in a similar vein of stillness to Hermione’s flat. The quiet had settled along corridors that once bustled with life, and the brutality of murder. Now it was only home to one of its descendants, Lucius Malfoy, and his single guest. Though it was built for parties of at least a hundred, the all but abandoned building seemed suited for two. 

“Your move.” A gruff voice crept out from the silence. 

They had been watching the chess set for at least a minute, and by the rules of the game, Lucius Malfoy ought to have admitted defeat. 

“I am aware, old friend.” He chuckled, and broke yet another rule as his hands ghosted almost every piece. 

His companion did little more than roll his eyes, having grown accustomed to the theatrics over the years. Lucius moved with elegance, even as he did little more than retreat across the board. 

“One thing I will say for muggles, I much prefer their sets. Wizarding chess is a trifle too tacky for my tastes.” Malfoy remarked, waiting for a reaction from the other wizard, who wasted no time in stealing his second rook. 

Nothing. It was expected, of course. In their youth, they said very little. Now, their friendship was almost mute. They met a few days a week, to consume centuries old cognac and play chess. As tradition, Lucius rarely won. His mind was never on the game, but bits and pieces of conversation. He took what he could. 

“I received the most interesting correspondence today.” The pureblood prodded again, and with a twist of his staff, the letter flew to his hand. 

“From?” The second man barely looked up from the chess board.

“Your employer.” 

That did it. The parchment was barely in Lucius’ hands for more than a few seconds before it was stolen from his grasp. 

“I had hoped to read it aloud.” 

“Typical of you to enjoy the sound of your own voice.” He sneered, black eyes devoured the letter before they narrowed into a razor sharp glare. 

“Cyrus has always possessed a nervous disposition. I had hoped he would grow into the job.” Lucius barked a single note of laughter, before leaning back into his chair. 

His forefinger ran round his glass several times, but still, he hadn’t taken a single sip. He preferred elf-made wine, but wouldn’t drink it in such company. 

“Still pulling the strings?” 

“Not all of them, but yes. It’s my only form of entertainment these days.” Another dry laugh, to a somber melody this time. 

It was a harsh reminder that for all his money, all the power he once possessed - Lucius Malfoy was very much alone. His wife and son had left for France the moment the war was over, leaving the house abandoned until his second Azkaban sentence had come to an abrupt end. The chill he had felt for so many years was not unlike the one that ran along his spine on evenings such as this. He was reminded that in his ivory tower, wealth could free him from prison - but not from isolation, not completely at least. 

“You will tell Cyrus-” Another growl stopped short.

“-I will tell him nothing. Clearly, someone has been misbehaving. Now tell me Severus, why aren’t you playing nicely at work? How on earth has the Granger girl managed to get under your skin?” Lucius wore a smug grin that could only belong to a Malfoy.

Severus Snape was determined not to scowl, he wrestled with a lip that eventually curled into submission. 

“That is none of your business, Lucius.” A casual remark, one that suggested he hadn’t spent weeks lamenting over this ridiculous witch. 

Before her arrival, he had spent years in well earned solitude. He seemed to be surrounded with those who despised loneliness, but unlike the others - he thrived. Where most of his coworkers had been partnered off, the head of the department, a jittery Cyrus Copperfield had seen that it was best to leave Severus be. Then Hermione Granger swept into the office and turned his favourable lifestyle on its head. There couldn’t be two of them working alone, their boss had insisted, and paired them together for the indefinite future. 

At first, Severus had resisted. For the first three days he feigned illness, and camped out in his hovel of a home. During that time he considered returning to Hogwarts, or daring to venture out into a new business. Did the wizarding world need another apothecary? Perhaps not, but it was better than working with the former undesirable number two. Eventually his senses took hold, he was confident that he could best a witch with almost twenty years less experience than his own. He had also been working for the Ministry two years longer than she had, thanks to the part time puppet master Lucius Malfoy. He would cease behaving like a child, and stroll back into his office and take control. 

That was until he couldn’t. He returned to find that Hermione had completed most of their tasks without even bothering to consult her superior. He considered himself the more experienced, and should have earned the title of being in charge. Of course, typical Gryffindor that she was, she had stolen the reins - and held all the power in her delicate hands. Blasted witch. From there, things had only gotten worse. The two of them couldn’t agree on anything, which meant his quality of work had decreased dramatically. She obviously argued and played devil’s advocate out of spite, yearning for a reaction from him. It worked. Severus resorted to malice, he found comfort in his old ways. Shouting matches ensued, and she proved herself to be a far cry from the witch he had once taught in his old potions classroom. It felt like a lifetime ago, actually. At least then, she had been somewhat on his side. Not that he needed her support, but he preferred it to this - whatever their devolved state had become. 

“Come now, old friend. Draco always complained of her arrogance at school, amongst other things.” Malfoy’s lips twitched, offering the ghost of a smile as he mentioned his son. 

He spoke of Draco as if he might have died, not disowned him. It was easier that way, rather than to admit his own failings. Lucius Malfoy was his own strain of stubborn, an aging wizard set in his ways. Not all of them thankfully. A few years earlier and he might’ve had a different opinion of Hermione Granger. Times had changed, and Lucius went wherever money and power beckoned him. 

Severus stalled for a moment, and finished his cognac before answering. It seemed poignant that the alcohol burned his lips as he spoke of a woman who brought him nothing but anger and frustration. 

“Arrogant indeed. She has consistently undermined me since her arrival. Granger’s petty, rude, and refuses to cooperate.” The Slytherin spat. 

In his fit of rage, he had failed to notice that Lucius had crept upon his king and there was nowhere left to turn. 

“Indeed? The two of you sound like an excellent match. Your move.” 

Stubborn as ever, Severus refused to accept that his old friend had him on the run. He tried another pointless strategy, in the hope of buying time. It only lost him another piece. 

“Hardly, Lucius.” He scowled, and finally stuck out his hand for his competitor to shake. 

“Aha, excellent! My third win this year.” He accepted the handshake, before replacing Severus’ grip with the untouched glass. “To my success?” 

The former potions master shook his head, but obliged. With the help of an old spell, Snape’s empty glass refilled itself allowing him to join Lucius in his toast. He would have liked to mention that it was indeed Malfoy’s third win of the year, but that they were in October. It would have done little to dampen his mood, or improve Severus’ - so he remained silent and let the cognac flavoured sting consume him instead. 

“Perhaps I’ll go for a fourth win before Christmas.” Lucius smirked, and took the opportunity to reclaim his letter. 

“Now, about Miss Granger-” Excitement tugged at his lips, opportunities like these rarely presented themselves. He was the wealthier wizard, and had been blessed with superior beginnings...but Severus surpassed him in every other way. He was a competent spellcaster, more intelligent, and usually quite good at chess. It was near impossible to poke fun at him, to break through the armour he had spent a lifetime building. 

“What about her?” 

“Have you considered sleeping with her?” 

Severus choked on his drink. 

“No I have not! She is infuriating, meddlesome, arrogant and I-” He spluttered, until he slowly realised he was being toyed with.

“-oh surely you’ve entertained the idea. Not even once?” He pressed on, one brow lifted. 

“No.” 

“Sweet Circe Severus, you are a bore. I suppose you will do as you please. Certainly would make life more interesting if you-” 

“You will refrain from meddling, Lucius.” He advised curtly, then stood to take his leave. 

Lucius made no attempt to rise with his friend. The raven haired man had spent many an evening in Malfoy Manor, he needn’t be led to the door. 

“Ah, I suppose. But do keep me updated,” He paused, the other man lingered in the doorway, 

“If you find yourself in two minds, ask yourself what I would do.” 

“I dread to think what you would do.” Snape’s voice echoed across the empty manor as he disappeared into the corridor. 

The pureblood indulged in little more than a snicker, and watched his glass refill before taking pleasure in another sip. He glanced over the letter once more, unfortunately it didn’t go into much detail. It was mostly a long list of worries and woes, reminding Lucius how he had taken Severus on just as he had asked, and with Granger’s arrival he was dragging the department down. Despite the obvious quiver in his handwriting, he had to hand it to young Cyrus, as he dared to deliver quite a serious threat to one of the oldest wizarding families in British society.

Speak with Severus, or he will be dismissed. 

Now that he had seen it for himself, Lucius only hoped his friend would take heed of this warning. Then again, it didn’t really matter. Life was little more than a chessboard to Mr. Malfoy, each of his friends and contacts placed in various positions over the years. It was of no consequence to him if they fell, a new one would stand in their place. The only exception being of course, a certain Severus Snape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n - Hello, I'm bex, and I'm back with a new fic! Warning, if you're looking for a piece with a good, detailed plot - then this probably isn't for you. As the tags say, this fic is PWP (or it will be soon!) it's just here to serve a purpose and prop up my writing. Now that's out of the way, I hope you enjoy this first chapter. Future instalments are coming soon!


	2. grab him by the bishops

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was how she wanted to play? In a battle of wills, Severus Snape was a self declared victor. If she wanted to be taunted, to be teased until she had to beg for his touch, she need only ask. This was her request, and he would happily oblige.

Severus began occluding the very moment he left Malfoy Manor. As he rose from his seat there had been a flicker, a spark in his brain that entertained the fantasy his friend had hoped he might indulge in. It was nothing more than an outline, an argument dying on her lips as he silenced her  _ just  _ the way she wanted, permission to be impolite, the feeling of curls and curves against his skin- 

It was too much. He worked against his desires and emptied his mind with ease. Then, with a crack, the manor grounds were swallowed by cobbled streets and industrial smoke. Spinner’s End was familiar territory, he was the man who had become his home, bitter and broken and barely there. His sneers only matched the ones his neighbours wore as he passed. Muggles needn’t know of magic to understand that Severus Snape was different. Now, caught between home and alienation - he wanted comfort. Despite the temptation, he would resist thinking of Granger that way. He reached for the brandy. 

The former spy occluded until he thought his head might split in two, though that might have been the drink. Still, he wouldn’t break. He showered, he read, he paced the room without a destination. He couldn’t say he slept, as he tried too hard to separate himself, and his co-worker, from Lucius’ suggestion. 

Severus tried to change her piece by piece, create a new face with a similar fantasy. Removing Granger from his thoughts was the only way he would survive the weekend. Unfortunately, she had a habit of being everywhere. She haunted his working day, and now she had somehow managed to seep into his thoughts after work. This was not the future he had promised himself all those years ago. When his life was leaking from his neck onto the floorboards of an abandoned boathouse. It would have been a pathetic end to a pitiful life. His tale, what had it been then? What was it now? Former war hero, one who had barely escaped Azkaban for his trouble. Whilst the likes of Potter and his Gryffindor ensemble had been decorated with medals and public adoration, he was given a slap on the wrist. Why? Because he served two narcissists without question, instead of following the law. Before he had been bitter, led by a passionate mix of hatred, jealousy, and love. The war was over, he was suspended in mid-air doing little more than existing. It was nice. Or it had been. 

He wasted his weekend with more books than he could manage and continuous cold showers. Eventually his thoughts of Granger had blurred into everything else, no longer a means to escape - but a problem. A ‘Monday’ problem. Before the war had ended, work had been his life. Espionage and teaching had blended into one, the death eater mask and his teaching robes could have been part of the same performance. Severus was not a changed man, but lived by a new set of regulations. He would not bring his work home with him, and his infuriating coworker was certainly an extension of said rule. 

Unfortunately work would catapult him to the very root of the issue as he entered the Ministry atrium on that terrible Monday morning. Severus found himself in unfamiliar territory; a literary war zone. Books were flying at top speed, several narrowly missing his head. He weaved his way through the chaos, dodging hardbacks and anthologies until he found the source. This was not his office, at least, not the way he remembered it. One desk had moved to the window, allowing its owner to drink in the impressive view of wizarding London. Either side of the desk were the bookshelves, where its occupants continued their venture home. There were ridiculous, frivolous objects scattered around the place he’d never seen before; plants, plaques, and pointless ornaments. Or as he had dubbed them, obstructions and distractions that got in the way of any real work. What the hell was Granger playing at? 

He moved further into the room, to find her -  _ dear Merlin -  _ bent over the desk. Those trousers in particular were deliciously tight around her backside. Severus spun on the spot, determined to avert his gaze. A whole weekend of occluding, and this was what he was greeted with?! All of it, wasted. 

“Granger!” He barked, before turning to face her. 

He watched how her shoulders tensed as she retreated from her task, spine straightened and hands firmly set on her hips. This woman had predicted a war, and rightly so. 

“Yes, Severus? I’m rather busy-” She responded, as if she had been the teacher for almost twenty years and not he. 

“Where...is my office?” Severus had decided on a calmer tone than what she might expect. 

Anger led his imagination astray, he never imagined them in a romantic, domesticated sense. He wasn’t the type, and she certainly wasn’t his. Those brief moments when his mind had wavered, occlumency shields caving in on themselves, he pictured a fire so intense that words could no longer suffice. A chemistry of epic proportions, one that could only be subdued by touching and tasting her everywhere. By keeping a safe distance between them, keeping his voice and his temper in check, he would be able to avoid any embarrassment. 

Naturally, Severus Snape would never dare to make the first move. Even so, it was disrespectful to think of her that way, when they were supposed to be working together. If eight hours of shouting matches and glares could be considered a healthy work relationship. 

“Here, obviously! I might have changed a few things…” She stopped short, her gaze fell on a photograph of herself, Potter, and Weasley. 

His eyes soon joined hers, before narrowing into slits.  _ Oh...absolutely not _ . A flick of his wand and the picture landed face down on her desk. 

  
  


“For what purpose?” Severus pressed on, spitting venom at the dreaded picture. 

“It improves wellness and productivity. Studies show that seventy four percent-” 

Hermione began to lie, unbeknownst to her co-worker, until she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth. Everyone had a tell. 

After her meeting with a certain redhead, Ms. Granger had spent the weekend brainstorming on how to ‘get her own back’. Fighting fire with fire was rather difficult when she had little more than a dwindling flame. She had started out serious, intending to orchestrate a departmental meeting behind his back, or hand in the finalised copy of legislation without asking. These were far too grand and ambitious for a Saturday evening. Besides, she wanted to rile him up for a few days, not have him stewing in hatred for the rest of her career. In the end her list of twenty had been narrowed down to two, and it was a toss up between rearranging the office before he arrived and ‘losing’ one of his assignments. 

She settled on the former, redecorating would clash with his stubborn nature - and she wanted to savour his knee jerk reaction to fight against any change that occurred without his consent. Hermione had left him a spot; a twisted act of kindness. His old desk had been pushed into the darkest part of the room, with little more than a lamp and his files to keep him company. He wanted to be left alone, there was his solution! 

“Enough! Where are my things?” He demanded. 

He followed the direction of those familiar, antagonising honey eyes until he landed on his own little corner. Blasted witch! He had been cast aside - again. First by his family and neighbours as a child, in school he had been discarded by his peers, ignored by the order and society after the war: and now by her. 

“Your arrogance astounds me, Granger. You may be able to control your brainless friends-” 

“They aren’t brainless!-” 

“But it will not wash with me. That is not my desk.” He growled, and bravely took a step closer.

Now, there was nowhere for him to hide - she was given such an intimate view of his rage. Dark eyes seemed to penetrate her mind and unlock her thought process without legilimency, a hardened stare brushed against her thoughts - but she wouldn’t waver. Hermione would not be intimidated by the penetrating gaze of Severus Snape. Emboldened, she mimicked his movements, nearly closing the gap between them. She swallowed thickly, perhaps now they were too close. She remembered Ginny’s words, and how perhaps they could have a grain of truth to them. 

  
  


In her defence, Hermione hadn’t thought about being that intimate with the former potions master until  _ after  _ their conversation. Then, caught in a web of another lonely weekend her mind began to consider such possibilities...and she let it. How would the day play out, if her indulgent fantasy had its way? Her breath staggered, occupied by rough hands exploring her thighs...travelling higher, and higher, toying with the fabric of her underwear until she begged him to- 

She wouldn’t beg. 

The moment passed, her hands curled into fists and she remembered  _ why  _ she was arguing with this stubborn, ridiculous man. He dismissed her at every turn, even at that very moment, he was questioning and insulting her decisions - again! Of course it was all rubbish, but there was every chance that a cosy office environment did wonders for a person’s productivity. Unfortunately the suggestion was hers, so he would never approve. 

“This is my office as well, Severus! This is my desk, these are my things, and they’re going to stay here. You may bring your own items as well if you like.” She folded her arms, and the lecture was over. 

She wondered what little belongings he would have. An obvious, foolish guess would be a photo of Lily Potter. Hermione nearly laughed at the idea of having to see Harry’s mother everyday, and couldn’t imagine Severus being so sentimental. Then again, most didn’t believe that love was in his nature at all. Harry’s declaration had been quite the surprise, if only because it offered a side of a different man. No one had seen the man who was capable of loving another, except maybe Dumbledore. She knew that she would never have the privilege. 

“Granger, need I remind you that your job is not to lecture me. It may be difficult for an arrogant know-it-all such as yourself, but it is not your business to know the details of my private life.” He sneered, and indulged in his vicious ways. 

“You had no problem-” Hermione stalled, regretting her words. Severus already knew. 

“Say it.” He spat, daring her to say the unforgivable. 

The Gryffindor knew she was wrong, knew she shouldn’t say it - but it was that same courage and recklessness she had grown up with that told her to say it regardless of his feelings. When had he spared hers? 

“I- I was only going to say that sharing your private life wasn’t out of the question when you were facing Azkaban.” She winced, and rightly so. 

Those words stung them both. 

“Wouldn’t you, Granger? Still such a foolish, naïve-” 

“I am not a child!” She was shouting now, no doubt attracting the attention of the offices on either side.

“Of that I am quite aware!” He roared. 

It wasn’t an all out declaration, but it may as well have been. Severus could have cursed himself for letting it slip, for letting his feelings get the better of him. Working with her, being near this cursed woman - that was his undoing. He would speak to Cyrus, or higher, and ask to move departments. Somewhere where there would be no curly haired witch to drive him to a point of exasperation. 

“I- wait. Severus-” The witch began, unsure of where her words would end.

Somewhere there should have been an apology:  _ I went too far, anyone in your position would have done the same.  _ Hermione meant to say, or at least she should have tried to. Instead, she watched as he hesitated, watching her intently. A moment later, he scowled and turned on his heel - and left their office.

He was a grown man, she wouldn’t chase after him. She watched his robes billow behind him until he disappeared out of the room, to go somewhere, anywhere she wasn’t. There was a point during that silence, his expression changed, something had caught his attention, but what? It would have been easier if the two of them were friends, then she might have been able to understand him better. Given that this Monday was no different to any other, ignoring the dramatic exit on Severus’ part, it seemed like an impossible dream. Hermione returned to the desk,  _ her  _ desk - determined to do some real work.

\-- 

He came back when their working day was meant to be over. One partner without the other made for a difficult shift, and even the brightest witch of her age and the best spy in the business couldn’t complete legislation meant for two. It would have been easier to return to an empty office, to avoid being reminded that he had stormed out like a petulant child: but Granger had a habit of defying what a person wanted. She too lived by her own agenda. Though their ambitions differed, his were entirely selfish - and she was dedicated to saving the world time and time again. Once was enough for him. 

He hovered by the open door, watching her from a safe distance. Wild curls curtained her face, as she hunched over her desk, elbow deep in legislation. Severus entered without saying a word, unsure of where to put himself. He refused to sit by that pathetic excuse for a desk. Wizarding society may have been happy to forget him, he himself was happy to become a ghost of the war, but with Granger he would be seen. He sensed his presence was unwanted, and like her, that only made him more determined. 

“You’re back? I’ve finished the revisions on veritaserum imports.” She told him idly, barely bothering to look up from her desk. 

“As have I.” He revealed, and produced a roll of parchment from his pocket.

Now he had her attention. Her head snapped up, amber flames beginning to stir in her eyes. Hermione rose from her seat, taking her notes with her. 

“Let me see.” It seemed that manners had long since been forgotten, in one swift movement the pair exchanged papers. 

  
  


“Section E is sorely lacking. You’ve barely touched base on its uses.” She pointed out, telling him off like he was one of her less important friends. Longbottom or the Lovegood girl, perhaps. This wasn’t the tone reserved for her inner circle. 

“There is only one use.” He drawled before adding, “Two pages on its history is unnecessary. We are here to explain the law, Granger, not to teach.” The former potions master had taught enough lessons to last him a lifetime. 

“Background information is incredibly important!” The witch argued, but was dismissed with a wave of his hand. 

“No matter, we will use my copy.” 

“We will not!” She leapt forward, in an attempt to release her legislation from his clutches. 

He recoiled, pulling the parchment back, and dragging Hermione along with him. The witch stumbled in his direction, careful not to get too close. At this point, she wasn’t sure  _ what  _ would happen. 

“This ends...now.” He said finally, and moved his hand further. 

Hermione would not yield, she held her ground, and her papers, following his hand with her own. It was childish; she felt her cheeks swell, burning with embarrassment at the ridiculous situation that had unfolded. They were supposed to be adults and yet they were fighting over a scrap of parchment. A scrap of parchment she had spent all day perfecting! A scrap of parchment that had left her shoulders tense, a crick in her neck, and the beginnings of a headache. Then again her coworker might have played a part in all of the above. 

“Well hand it over then!” She huffed, gripping the notes tighter now. 

“It’s all a game to you, isn’t it Granger? Rearranging my office, writing legislation without my consent - this job is little more than a hobby. How luxurious it must be-” 

“Oh, of course, here you go again! Are you threatened by my presence, Severus? You haven’t stopped insulting me since my transfer!” She pushed back, and threw her hair over her head. 

“I’m merely suggesting that it was a wasted trip.” He shrugged. 

He would have preferred it, had she never left the library. Severus rarely saw her prior to her move to the international law office. Before then she was a blur of curls, buried in stacks of books - a faceless entity behind the shelves. Back then he would only be able to say that he knew her in passing, that talent should not be confused with the ability to recite textbooks on demand. Now? He would simply say it louder. 

“Instead of fighting, we could try and make the best of it. If you hadn’t stormed out earlier, you could have finished rearranging the room  _ with  _ me.” She explained, her voice laced in its usual condescending tone. 

“No matter Granger, I’m changing it now.” 

With that, Severus yanked her parchment with such a force he managed to free himself of her clutches. The witch let out a yelp, as she took a few clumsy steps to right herself. 

“What? No, Severus! Stop, now!” She tried, but her command fell on deaf ears.

The wizard rolled up his sleeves, and drew his wand from his back pocket. He knew he had to be quick, after all, Granger had excellent reflexes and it wouldn’t take long for her to disarm him. One sharp flick of the blackthorn wood, and the desk began to quiver. His magic was quickly cancelled out by her own, and in a flash she threw herself in front of the desk. Arms braced against the wooden surface for support, Hermione suspected he might try and move it regardless of her position. 

“Step aside.” He growled. 

“No!” A weak yelp of protest, but it had the desired effect. 

“That,” He paused to point at his poor excuse of a desk, “-is not mine. I will not be cast aside.” Severus sneered. 

He stepped forward, tentatively, in the hopes that she might move and he could continue. Instead, Hermione withdrew further, now sitting on the wooden surface. The witch shot him a defiant look, daring him to continue, to try and move them both _.  _ Oh, Severus was tempted. Claws and teeth and heels were dug deep into this battle, neither would give up camp. 

“I worked hard, Severus. On the legislation, and on...this. I won’t have you swoop in and change things at the last second.” The witch was determined to sound impassive, like she was the one in control. This mindset couldn’t stop the heavy rise and fall in her chest, nor could it stop the change in her heartbeat, now thumping to a different tune. 

“Then what would you prefer, Granger?” He asked, daring to move an inch closer. 

She was geared up for a fight, a duel without wands, but instead here he was...offering compromises? Hermione suspected their argument was taking an altogether different turn, one she couldn’t keep up with.

“I-what?” She asked, his question having thrown her entirely.

“What do you want?” He tried again, firmer this time.

She didn’t want him to leave, that would be too easy. Her eyes travelled down his body, along the narrow path of frock coat buttons, before meeting his face again. She drew her lower lip between her teeth as she considered how easy it would be to give in. Just to try. The logical part of her brain, the bit that did most of the talking, started to draw up a list of pros and cons of any reckless decisions. Unfortunately (Or not, depending on how you looked at it!) it was taking too long. 

She would take the first leap, blindly, into the unknown. 

Hermione grabbed him by the collar, pushing herself off the desk and drawing him closer. The first kiss was rough, clumsy, born from two people who hadn’t been intimate with another individual for  _ such  _ a long time. The angles were off, her mouth crashed above his - very nearly biting his top lip. In those first few moments, where her stomach swirled and his shields shattered, there were obstacles. Teeth and noses clashed, and the height difference was already beginning to put a strain on his shoulders. 

There was only one kiss, it was their mutual consent, the binding of an unwritten contract. After that, Hermione found she didn’t want to kiss him anymore. In the past there had been others, men she thought she might have loved. She kissed them. There had been the occasional fling, a one off as it were, she hadn’t kissed them at all. This was somewhere in between, they worked together after all, there was no chance that they could pretend this - whatever it was - hadn’t happened. At that first kiss, she drew the line.

From there, both of them reached for their wands. Magically, one drew the curtains whilst the other locked the door. Severus pushed her back on the desk, and listened as she landed with a soft sigh. She looked up at him, those whiskey eyes drawing him closer. 

“Yes?” 

“Yes.” 

He didn’t kiss her again, not on the lips at least. He wasn’t gentle either, but neither party expected anything less. This was weeks of frustration, anger directed at the other in passive glares and roaring shouting matches. He nipped along her neck, until he reached the juncture of her shoulder. He felt the one hand that had found his hair tighten its grip, and another sigh fell from her mouth - heavier than before. He did it again, harder this time. Hermione very nearly moaned. 

The witch tipped her head back, unsure of where he might go next. He tried to touch her everywhere, determined to find all the right spots, but he was only one man. She liked this side of Severus Snape, the man who wasn’t perfect, who would make mistakes in a quest of trial and error. 

She considered undoing the buttons of her blouse herself, as he was seemingly otherwise occupied. Her hand crept away from the base of his neck, but froze mid-air. His fingers had snaked past the waistband of her trousers, glided over the material of her covered sex. Her eyes flew open, unable to contain her surprise, the witch whimpered. His mouth twitched, revealing the beginnings of a smirk. 

Hermione had never expected him to be so brave so soon, he pressed harder, she felt the desire pool until her knickers dampened from sheer want. She needed him to push them to one side and touch her properly. Her hand soon joined his, applying the right amount pressure, the movements that would surely make her moan and then- 

A knock at the door. 

“Severus? Ms. Granger? You’ve ah- you seem to have locked the door!” A nervous voice called out. 

The two of them froze, and a quick retreat ensued. Hermione hurriedly tucked her blouse back into her trousers, whilst her co-worker brushed over his frock coat. His cock was beginning to stir, since he had been that close to touching her, to feeling how wet she was - because of his touch. Severus scowled, willing his semi hardness to disappear. He would not face his employer in such a state. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a choice. The door unlocked with a soft click, that was  _ her  _ doing, obviously.

“That’s better. Ah, why the locked door?” He asked, pointing at it with his wand.

Obviously Cyrus had attempted to open the door himself, but with little success. Now he saw why their boss required Lucius’ recommendation. The man was an idiot. 

“We were...sorting through our differences.” Hermione tried, though her voice wobbled and she was chewing on her lip, again. She really was a terrible liar.

“Oh?” Cyrus responded. 

His brows knitted together as he studied the pair of them. Hermione was leaning against the desk, legs crossed all the way down to the ankle. Cyrus considered it, but nerves prevented him from advising that she iron her clothes before work. If Severus needed advice, his boss would not be the one to deliver it - no, he would send another letter to Mr. Malfoy. The former potions master stood front and centre, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his chin whilst his thumb and forefinger hovered over his mouth. What a strange pair indeed. 

“Your letter, Cyrus?” Severus reminded him. 

The wizard gulped. 

“Yes, well, ah - this is excellent, yes, excellent work both of you! I’m just heading off now and I suggest you do the same.” His voice dropped, it was quieter now. He winced at the thought of Snape rejecting his suggestion.

“Of course, thank you, Cyrus.” Hermione smiled brightly, and their employer breathed a heavy sigh of relief. 

The strings that were holding him together had tightened, and he would write to Lucius immediately, reporting his success. He bounded out of the room almost, the two watched him leave with a spring in his step.

Emboldened, those dark eyes flashed with a flicker of mischief. He inched forward, only to stop short when she held up her hand. He froze, shields ready to protect him from the humiliation that was to come. 

“I don’t think so, not yet.” She paused, toying with him for a moment before finally, “Surely you can wait until tomorrow?” She suggested, wearing his earlier smirk. 

“You have no idea, Granger.” 

This was how she wanted to play? In a battle of wills, Severus Snape was a self declared victor. If she wanted to be taunted, to be teased until she had to beg for his touch, she need only ask. This was her request, and he would happily oblige. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a/n - I'm sorry this took such a long time. Unfortunately I had a long list of bad luck that I won't bore you with! I've written this chapter at least three times, but I wanted to give you something I was happy with. Just a reminder, the plot of this is pretty flimsy - if you're looking for something complex with twists and turns, you're in the wrong place. Fair warning, it's going to get smuttier from here! Thanks for reading!


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